


When the Fever Hits

by draiochtaa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Elevator Sex, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Dean Winchester, Omega Dean Winchester/Alpha Sam Winchester, Semi-Public Sex, Trapped In Elevator, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draiochtaa/pseuds/draiochtaa
Summary: Dean Smith is a successful businessman, who also happens to be an omega. The elevator decides to break down on the very same day that he’s due to go into heat, and he’s currently trapped in a small enclosed space with one of those cute alphas from tech support.It reallyisa terrible life.
Relationships: Dean Smith/Sam Wesson, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 26
Kudos: 415





	When the Fever Hits

**Author's Note:**

> This requires a little bit of background knowledge on omegaverse, so here’s some of the slang that you’ll see, summed up as briefly as I can manage (assuming that you already know about heats, knots, and ruts):  
>  **Slick** \- lube-like substance excreted from the anus when a male omega is aroused or in heat.  
>  **"Bite me"** \- in reference to the mating bite; when an alpha bites an omega’s scent gland, creating a permanent bond between them.  
>  **Scenting** \- when one rubs their scent on another via scent glands in the neck and face; a possessive act that can soothe an omega in heat. 
> 
> Quick fact regarding this particular verse: alphas and omegas can purr, growl, and whimper like an animal would. When these terms are used, they are meant literally. 
> 
> This was originally way longer, I shortened it a lot because I talk too much.

Right around lunchtime, Dean feels that familiar swirling pressure in his gut that announces the return of his heat, and he nearly groans out loud. He absolutely despises being in heat. Everything about it is annoying: the desperation, the exhaustion, the mess, being unable to eat anything other than takeout (due to the exhaustion), and as a result of all of the above, never feeling truly clean. Most of all, though, he hated the knowing looks that he’d get from anyone and everyone who caught his scent.

He makes it through the rest of the day relatively easily, since it’s not quite unbearable yet. He always gets several hours of “warning” before it truly hits, which gives him plenty of time to finish all of his work and let everyone know that he’s going to be out for the next few days. He breathes a sigh of relief once he’s locked the door to his office at the end of the day, looking forward to being able to get in bed and stay there until next week. He doesn’t pass too many people on his way down the hall, which he’s very happy about, but he doesn’t stay that lucky for very long. 

He reaches the elevator and pushes the button. Before long, it dings, and the second the doors slide open he’s bombarded with the strong, musky scent of an unmated alpha. Normally, he wouldn’t mind it very much, but today it’s absolutely intoxicating. He nearly cries in frustration. 

They make really awkward eye contact for a second while Dean tries to figure out what to do. He seriously considers taking the stairs, but then he (incorrectly) decides that the elevator will save him a lot of time, and he sucks it up and steps inside. 

The alpha seems nice enough, at least. He’s ridiculously tall and well-built, but he has good manners; he’d bowed his head to Dean in a submissive gesture when he passed, as was customary for alphas in most progressive areas nowadays. He’s wearing a tech support uniform, and Dean thinks he looks vaguely familiar. 

His favorite thing about this particular alpha is that he hasn’t said a single word yet. It’s impossible for him not to have picked up Dean’s scent (which is incredibly potent due to his incoming heat), but he isn’t talking about it; he hasn’t even given him _the look_. It’s a miracle. 

He’s keeping his distance, too. It’s like he knows that Dean’s only objective right now is to get through this elevator ride as quickly as humanly possible so he can go home and start taking care of business. 

Ironically, this exact thought seems to be what causes the elevator to immediately jerk to a stop between floors. The alpha glances up at the ceiling, pushing one of the buttons on the panel. There’s a creaking noise, but that’s pretty much it. He pushes it again, and this time nothing happens at all. 

They make eye contact again, and it’s considerably more awkward than the first time. 

“Oh my _God_ ,” the alpha grumbles, turning back to the panel and pushing the emergency call button. 

Thankfully, this isn’t one of those elevators that has the annoying siren and the ominous red light, but there is at least a real person who answers the call. 

Dean doesn’t pay much attention to the conversation that takes place then (he’s incredibly preoccupied at the moment), but he does pick up something about how there isn’t currently a technician in the building, and then he distinctly hears the phrase “at least a couple hours” come out of the little speaker.

Here’s the problem (well, the _other_ problem); the alpha’s pheromones seem to have advanced the progression of Dean’s heat, and the brunt of it hits him like a panic attack. 

He’s trapped. The alpha turns back to him, and the look on his face is one of sympathy as well as helplessness. It’s almost cute, but Dean’s too busy being upset to dwell on that. 

“I’m so sorry about this,” the alpha mumbles. 

“It’s not _your_ fault,” Dean reasons, but his voice trembles and his vision is a little hazy. He ends up having to sit down on the floor, and he pulls his knees up to his chest. 

“Is there anything you need?” the alpha tries quietly, staying where he is rather than trying to approach. Dean can tell from his tone that he’s not referring to the obvious thing. 

“I don’t know,” he mutters into his knees. It takes a surprising amount of effort to pay attention to what the alpha is saying, and even more effort to formulate a response. 

It’s quiet then, and the alpha sits down in the corner opposite Dean’s, as far away as he can possibly get. Dean finally processes the fact that the alpha is being affected by Dean’s pheromones as well as vice versa, and then he’s struck with the sudden realization that he’s probably going to go into rut soon because of it. It’s almost enough to make him start crying. 

“I’m Sam,” the alpha offers timidly, almost humorously, and when Dean looks up he sees that their positions are almost identical. Despite his inner turmoil (and outer discomfort), he has to smile. 

“Dean,” he replies. 

_Sam._ The word echoes in his head for a very long time, and he can’t quite make it stop. 

He feels another surge of arousal at the sight of the alpha practically curled into a ball, with his face buried in his knees and his dark, shaggy hair draped over his forearms. His hair had been fine a few moments ago, but now that he’s run his hands through it a couple of times, it’s tastefully disheveled. He looks like he’s suffering almost as much as Dean is. Dean has to force himself to look away by shoving his face back into his knees. He’s curled much more tightly than Sam, trying to make himself as small as possible. 

_I can get through this_ , he chants to himself in his head. Each time he repeats it, he becomes increasingly less confident. The alpha’s scent is smothering him, and he can’t escape it. No matter how tightly he holds himself, or how firmly he shoves his face into his own arms, it’s everywhere, and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

He unties his tie as he begins to feel very hot, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt as well. He catches Sam watching him out of the corner of his eye, focused intently on the movement of Dean’s fingers. The alpha doesn’t say anything, however, and he doesn’t make a move either. 

“How long’s it been?” he hears himself say, his voice raspy and unpleasant to his own ears. Sam pulls out his phone and stares unseeingly at his lock screen for a long moment.

“‘Bout five minutes, maybe?” he replies. His voice is equally raspy, but on Sam it’s incredibly attractive. He feels himself shaking. 

He’s very close to tears at this point. He’s hyper-aware of every little thing, such as the scratch of his shirt against his too-hot skin and the faint brush of Sam’s shoe against his own, a screaming reminder that this elevator is _too small_. In the silence, he can actually, legitimately hear his own heart beating rapidly in his ears. It’s loud enough that he stupidly wonders why Sam hasn’t brought it up yet. 

_Sam_ , his brain screams at him yet again. He would’ve done anything to have been able to stop the whimper that he lets out when he starts leaking slick, but sometimes life just isn’t fair. The sound causes Sam’s head to snap up, that intense gaze fixed on him again. He curls even closer to himself in an attempt to hide from it. 

He notices that Sam’s visibly trembling with the effort to hold himself back, which shows that he has twice the self-control of just about any other alpha in existence. In Dean’s corrupted mind, of course, that makes him even _more_ attractive. 

The air is so thick with arousal that it’s like trying to breathe underwater. 

Hot water. 

He’s so _hot_. He has to refrain from taking his shirt off, though he’d very much like to. 

Sam has forced himself to put his head back down, and Dean takes it as an opportunity to look at him again. That’s a mistake, obviously, but he just can’t help himself. 

Sam’s panting, his shoulders heaving with his breath. He’s sweating, too; it’s very obvious under that obnoxious yellow shirt. 

He turns his body to the side so he can face the wall instead. Maybe that will help. 

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t. 

He spends many long moments with his entire body shoved so tightly into the corner that he’s almost impressed by his own flexibility. He feels like he’s been stuck here for ten years, though it hasn’t even been ten minutes yet. He hears Sam take a deep, shaky breath behind him. And then, the dam comes crashing down. 

“Help me,” he whines. 

Sam doesn't respond at first, and Dean has to turn around and face him. Those eyes are on him again, and the intensity of the alpha's gaze makes him shiver. 

"I can't do this," Dean elaborates, hating how desperate he sounds. "I can't. I won't make it." 

"Don't say that," Sam replies, his voice low and cautionary. He's clearly doing everything he can to hold himself back, and if he loses control for even a second, then Dean will have over 200 pounds of feral alpha to answer for. 

To a certain degree of horror, he realizes that that's exactly what he wants. 

"Look, man, I'm crawlin' outta my skin over here," he tries to reason. "Can you at least, like...?" He doesn't know how to finish, but he's sure Sam gets the point.

Dean would greatly appreciate _not_ being looked at like that—like he doesn't know what he's asking for. 

"No," Sam whispers. But it's weak, and his self-control is clearly waning. 

“I’m not asking you to bite me or anything,” he snaps. “Just… _please_.”

“I can’t promise I’ll be gentle,” Sam warns. He’s still trembling, and the scent in the air confirms his statement; he’s in rut. 

“Okay,” is all Dean says. Sam looks at him for a very long time, visibly considering his options. 

Dean listens to his own heartbeat as he waits impatiently for the verdict. 

It happens very quickly. Sam practically pounces on him, face going straight into his neck. There’s a brief struggle; not to get away, but to unfold himself. Then he goes boneless in Sam’s vice-like grip, tilting his head back submissively and allowing the alpha to scent him. 

He thought he’d been drowning in that scent before, but this is a thousand times better (or worse, depending on how you look at it). Now, it’s not only around him, but _on_ him. He’s surrounded; he’s _owned_ , and it feels like heaven. He’s already purring, and they haven’t even started yet. 

Sam’s very thorough with his scenting, nuzzling his face into Dean’s neck like a cat, and it eases some of that desperation for a moment. Once he’s satisfied with his work, he looks up at Dean with wild eyes. 

“You’ve done this before, right?” he checks, as if he could possibly _stop_ now that he’s already had a taste. 

“Duh,” Dean breathes. He doesn’t exactly sleep around, but he’s certainly not a virgin; he’s taken plenty of knots in his lifetime.

Sam nods, dipping his head back down to bury his nose in Dean’s throat, near his scent glands. He takes a few deep breaths, then lets out a half-growl and rips Dean’s shirt open. Most of the buttons fly off, but Dean couldn’t care less at the moment. 

His hands are gripping Sam's biceps, but the alpha shoves them off to finish sliding his shirt down his arms. Dean tries to help, but any movement he makes is interpreted as resistance, and Sam only holds him down tighter. He's entirely at the alpha's mercy; it's out of his hands now.

Many omegas would complain about being coddled like this, but Dean thinks there's something very appealing about not having to worry about anything anymore. When instinct takes over, everything falls on the alpha; Sam will take care of him, and all he has to do is hold still. It’s a good deal, really. 

Before long, his shirt lies in a heap on the floor, and Sam’s mouth is eagerly exploring his bare chest. He focuses on one nipple, his hands trailing down to undo Dean’s belt. 

“Please,” Dean mutters. 

“Shh,” Sam coos, though he does speed up considerably. He’s just as desperate as Dean, after all. 

Dean’s pants are off in a matter of minutes, and then Sam’s undressing himself as well. Sam has to let go of Dean in order to do this, and he takes advantage of his temporary freedom to get up on his knees, bending forward with his ass in the air to present to his alpha. Sam voices his appreciation with a possessive growl. 

He starts with his mouth, nosing at Dean’s inner thighs before lifting his head to lick at his leaking hole. Dean whimpers at the sensation, spreading his knees in invitation. On a normal day, being eaten out feels pretty good; when in heat, it’s a thousand times better. Actually, pretty much _everything_ feels a thousand times better. 

Sam doesn’t even try to hold back. He’s really going for it; his tongue works fast and rough like he’s starving, and all Dean can do is arch his back into it and try to keep breathing. His face is shoved into the floor, and he’s feeling that warm, full-body tingle that normally comes with his heat. Other than being laser-focused on whatever Sam does to him, he’s barely aware of anything that’s going on. 

Alphas tend to really enjoy the taste of omega slick (it’s an instinctual thing), so he’s not at all surprised when Sam’s mouth keeps going until he’s trembling through his first orgasm. That’s the polite way to start, after all. 

Sam holds him in place through his orgasm, and then his mouth is gone and the alpha is mounting him. His body instinctively relaxes to prepare for the intrusion. It’s not as rough as he’d been expecting, and Sam places a soothing hand on his lower back as he presses in. He even pauses for a moment to let Dean adjust. Dean’s thankful; Sam is easily the biggest alpha he’s ever taken, and the stretch is a lot, even through the numb desperation of his heat. 

_And that’s not even his knot_ , Dean thinks with amusement, and he’s actually relieved to know that Sam will definitely leave him feeling satisfied, if not a little sore. 

It might just be the heat, but he finds himself growing very fond of Sam. 

Sam starts to move, and he’s still being relatively gentle. When he decides Dean’s ready (or he just simply ran out of composure), he blankets himself over the omega’s back, holding him tightly as he starts thrusting in earnest.

Dean whines under the onslaught, the heat in his bones finally ebbing to a pleasant throb. He loses track of time then, allowing Sam to take care of him as he slips into semi-consciousness. Normally, he’d feel uneasy and vulnerable when his brain stopped allowing him to focus, but something about Sam was putting him at ease. Maybe it was because the alpha had started scenting him again from behind (usually, alphas would just sink their teeth into the scruff of his neck instead). 

He wants to reach for Sam, to get his hands in that thick hair of his, but he can’t move. Not only because Sam wouldn’t let him, but because his own body is also very opposed to the idea. So, his hands stay firmly planted into the floor. 

Sam’s breathing heavily into his neck, and once again Dean is drowning in the strong scent of _alpha_. He’s panting himself, and he’s not even paying attention to the noises coming out of his own mouth. The phrase “like a bitch in heat” comes to mind. 

Before long, Sam’s knot starts to swell, and then it’s pushing firmly at his hole. 

“Do you want me to—?” he grunts, as if he could actually stop himself. Most likely, it’s more for peace of mind than anything else. 

“Please,” Dean whines again, and that’s all Sam needs. 

Sam stops thrusting then, rolling his hips energetically to ease his knot inside. Dean spreads his knees further apart and pushes into the steady pressure in an attempt to help him. When it finally pops into place, Dean practically squeaks as another orgasm washes over him. He squirms a bit, but Sam’s hold on him tightens to prevent him from moving. There’s a loud growl in his ear to signify Sam’s own orgasm; the first of many. It fades into a whine that makes Dean’s stomach lurch in arousal. 

Once they’ve both come down from their respective highs, Dean goes completely limp from exhaustion. An alpha’s knot works almost like a tranquilizer, and he loses control of his limbs at the steady flow of cum inside of him; if Sam hadn’t been holding him up, he would have fallen face-first into the floor. He’s purring in time with his panting breaths as his ass pulses involuntarily around the knot, effectively milking the alpha dry. He notes vaguely that the alpha is also purring: a sound that he doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. It’s a deep rumble, much deeper than that of an omega. 

Sam shifts them both to lay on their sides, with Dean facing the back wall of the elevator and Sam curled protectively around him. The alpha shudders in pleasure as a second, smaller orgasm floods through him when the movement jostles his knot. Once they’re settled, Sam buries his nose in Dean’s neck. 

“Thank you,” Dean mumbles. The alpha only exhales in response; the first few minutes are usually the hardest, as he’ll be in and out of mini-orgasms for a while (there’s a reason that alphas enjoy knotting so much). 

Once those few minutes have finally passed, Sam also goes limp. He’s still purring, and Dean has really fallen in love with the sound. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, nuzzling into the back of Dean’s head. 

“Absolutely,” Dean responds through the haze. It almost feels like he’s been drugged, and he’s very comfortable despite the hardness of the floor beneath them. Now’s the time when his verbal filter fucks off, and he’ll say just about anything that crosses his mind. “You’re big,” is one of those things, apparently. 

Sam exhales a breath of amusement. “Is that a good thing?” 

“Mhmm,” Dean purrs. 

They’re quiet for another moment, and Dean drapes one leg over both of Sam’s to open himself up a bit more. The steady pressure of the knot inside him feels really good, and he wants it as deep as it can get. Sam goes back to scenting him. 

“You smell good,” Dean blurts out, and he feels Sam smile against his neck. Of course he smells good; that’s literally the whole point. Sam goes along with it anyway. 

“So do you,” he responds. 

Dean floats in and out of consciousness for an indeterminate amount of time, relaxing into the sound of Sam’s steady purring against him. Sam has several more orgasms during this time, and he tries to be subtle about it to keep from disturbing Dean, but the omega catches the quiet whine and the little throb of the knot inside him every single time. 

He has no idea how long it’s been when he starts hearing voices outside the elevator doors, and he gathers that the technicians must have finally shown up. Sam’s knot is showing no signs of shrinking, however, and the alpha in question tenses around him. Neither of them knows what to do, but they can’t really move, so they stay where they are and simply wait. 

Scents don’t travel through the thick metal doors of the elevator, but the second they’re pried open and the scent of another alpha washes over them, Sam snarls viciously. The alpha immediately catches the scent of heat and backs off, closing the doors. 

There are more muffled voices, and when the doors open again, it’s an omega that comes through them and drapes a blanket over the pair. Sam’s currently shuddering through another orgasm, and his face is buried in Dean’s neck. The stranger leans over them and glances at Dean’s face, probably to see if the knotting was consensual, and he smiles awkwardly in response. She seems satisfied with that, and leaves them alone after briefly telling them to “take their time.” 

The doors stay open, but Dean doesn’t see any light filtering in, which tells him that there’s (hopefully) no one left in the building other than the crew waiting for them to leave the elevator. He’s embarrassed that anyone saw them at all, but at least it’s not the middle of the day when _everyone_ would have seen. 

Thankfully, Sam’s knot goes down pretty quickly after that, and he pulls out as soon as it does. Dean immediately misses the feeling, but he doesn’t say anything. There are a couple of towels piled neatly in one corner of the elevator, which they use to wipe themselves down in silence. As they’re getting dressed, Dean frantically tries to think of something to say. 

“Hey,” he tries. 

Sam lifts his head and just looks at him. 

“I, uh… had fun.” It takes a second before he gets a response. 

“Me too,” Sam says, quietly. He smiles just a little. 

“I wouldn’t mind doing it again,” he offers, braver than he’d been just a second ago. 

“Really?” Sam asks. Dean nods. 

They exchange numbers, and when they climb out of the elevator, the omega from before is back with a bottle of water for Dean. He takes it gratefully, drinking almost all of it. The rest of the crew gets to work on fixing the elevator, but the omega stays with him for a minute to make sure he’s okay. She’s eyeing Sam like he’s the Antichrist, probably thinking he took advantage of Dean, and the alpha keeps his head bowed in submission, looking like a puppy that’s been scolded. 

“He’s my boyfriend,” Dean tells her, mainly to get her to back off. He doesn’t miss the way Sam seems to light up a little bit at the words, though. 

They leave together, and Sam calls off work for the rest of the week.

**Author's Note:**

> "And that, kids, is how I met your father." 
> 
> Don’t ask me why I’m writing about an episode from 2009 in 2020, because I honestly have no idea. But it might be because I’m currently in the middle of my annual “let’s re-watch the whole show again” phase, and I lowkey miss the older seasons.


End file.
